a heavy crown

faces move up(wards?)
look upon glowing steps.
gravity’s lower,
but the heart is heavier.
when mirages are a reflection of reality,
and those below nothing but mystery;
ants along the rung,
every muscle stretched,
for every mark you etch,
to blaze a trail,
and burn those still along the rail.
flaming fingers follow suit,
director’s vision
with too high a degree.
authority with no autonomy,
twenty-four seven,
trudging towards heaven.
a crown you never wear,
but will forever bear.

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